


Witching Hour

by seiyuna



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Clone Sex, Consensual Somnophilia, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangbang, Inappropriate Use Of Nen, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Canon, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29455947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seiyuna/pseuds/seiyuna
Summary: One Kuroro has been more than enough for Kurapika to handle.Only now there are three.
Relationships: Kurapika/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Comments: 24
Kudos: 117





	Witching Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aprilwinks (sleepysauce)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepysauce/gifts).



> This is a Valentine’s Day gift for my friend Aprilwinks. I hope you enjoy it!

There was a routine.

In the quiet of the night, beneath the veil of darkness, there was an intruder who slipped into Kurapika’s bedroom time after time again. Kurapika breathed quietly as a familiar weight dipped at the mattress beneath him. He remained perfectly still, his eyes closed under the guise of slumber. 

A hand reached out to caress his cheek, ghosting along the curve of his jawline. Wisps of fur lightly brushed against his face, making him more sensitive than usual. Kurapika could feel a finger press at his lips, tentatively parting them. He would have minded if he was kissed, because neither of them were the types to afford such sentimentalities, but fortunately, no other movements suggested that he would be. Just as his visitor did nothing to voice his presence during this godless hour, Kurapika made no motions to signal his awareness. 

Eventually, the hand moved away to slide beneath Kurapika’s comforter, drawing it aside to expose his sleeping form. Phantom hands slid down Kurapika’s sides, mapping the softness of his skin, the harshness of bone, as if this were the first time he was being touched. A light tremor traveled down his spine, following the descent of these hands over the length of his body, until they finally settled on his hips. 

Whenever they did this, there was comfort to be found in the warmth of another body, but Kurapika’s heart was strangely hollow. Maybe it was the impermanence of it all, the realization that Kuroro’s touch would leave no evidence on his skin when morning came, as if sunlight would wash everything away but his memory. Kurapika could not see him, could only feel the heat of him, hear the sheets whispering as he moved.

There was a reason why this time at night was known as the witching hour, and Kurapika found himself spellbound by Lucifer himself. He didn’t understand why he was so drawn to Kuroro, Kuroro to him, only that they both possessed secrets in the dark. He barely remembered who he was whenever Kuroro laid his hands on him, despite that these were the same hands that had stolen so much from him already. Sometimes he wanted this moment to last forever and remember every fleeting touch on his body. Other times he wanted it to be over and forget that anything ever happened.

Maybe their arrangement made more sense than he thought, because this was his only time of weakness, when sleeplessness had plagued him. Kurapika couldn’t remember when this all began, only some time after they left everything behind on the Black Whale, forced to return home after losing more than they could have ever imagined. But he couldn’t dwell on this any further, because Kuroro’s hands dipped underneath the waistband of his sweatpants and undergarments, sliding them down to reveal his thighs, tense and goosefleshed with anticipation.

Kuroro pushed his thighs up, settling in between his legs. Kurapika could feel him leaning down, his breath edging towards his hardness. His lips pressed kisses along Kurapika’s inner thigh, burning a brand over his bare skin. Kurapika stiffened at these newfound gestures, when Kuroro was always careful to never leave any marks.

As marks bloomed across his thigh, he could feel Kuroro’s lips curve against his skin in a satisfied smile. His heart stuttered in his chest, because this is where the Spider tattoo would have been, if things were different. Suddenly, Kuroro’s hand reached in between them and grasped at Kurapika’s erection, stroking him firmly in his palm. A slow, steady warmth spread from Kurapika’s core to all his nerves with each drag of Kuroro’s hand, but it never built to anything. His movements were pleasant, but they weren't quite enough for him to cross over the edge.

Kuroro grasped at both of his thighs, and the next thing Kurapika knew was the sensation of Kuroro’s mouth over him, and his tongue, too, hot and insistent. The heat of arousal jolted in his abdomen, making his back arch off the bed and his hand twist into his pillow. Kuroro had never done this for him before. 

Kurapika should have rested on his front instead of his back, if it meant he could smother the moans threatening to escape him. His mouth fell open, but no sound spilled from his throat. He forced his breathing to remain steady, concealing his surprise and appreciating the darkness for making this so much easier. 

When he couldn't see anything, all of his senses narrowed down to the warmth of Kuroro’s tongue sliding over his length. Of course Kuroro was skilled with his mouth, when this tongue was accustomed to deceiving and seducing people for a living. His hand wrapped around the base of his erection, and Kuroro took the rest of him in with his mouth. He swallowed around Kurapika, and he was quickly losing the ability to think coherently, but this was the way that Kurapika enjoyed things—when nothing filled his mind and body except for Kuroro. His head tipped back against the pillow, his eyes squeezing shut, surely glowing scarlet.

Kurapika suppressed a gasp when Kuroro’s other hand wandered lower and his fingers pressed against his entrance. A slick finger rubbed at the rim, making Kurapika tense up again. It lingered there for a moment, before slipping through the tightness and inside him. He was too distracted by Kuroro’s mouth to concentrate on the pressure of his finger preparing him, stroking at his inner walls to accommodate an even greater stretch. But soon enough, a second finger began to accompany the first, coaxing Kurapika open even more. Kuroro moved deeper inside him, only to slide back as if to withdraw his fingers, before thrusting them back in and leaving him shivering with each of his movements.

Kuroro began rubbing at his most sensitive spot, and Kurapika bit down on a strangled moan. A familiar heat churned deep in Kurapika’s stomach from the synchrony of his mouth and hands, moving rougher and forcefully now. All he could hear was the slick sounds of Kuroro fucking him with his fingers.

His cock hit the back of Kuroro’s throat, and he nearly bucked into his mouth. Kuroro gripped his thigh, pulling him closer. It was becoming more and more difficult to stay quiet. The muscles of his abdomen pulled, his thighs were trembling, and he could feel his orgasm simmering beneath his skin, threatening to shatter through his body. Kurapika gave himself up to the pleasure, let himself arch into Kuroro’s mouth and feel his fingers deeper within him. Kuroro was so giving when all he did was take, and Kurapika needed to hold in his voice if he didn’t want this façade to end. He was close, so close, and—

There was a click of the light switch on the wall, and light suddenly flooded the room.

Kurapika felt Kuroro stop and lift his head, his tongue dragging over his erection as he moved away. His fingers withdrew from Kurapika’s body, and he desperately needed them back. He was feeling terribly empty.

In his pleasure-induced haze, Kurapika barely understood what was happening. For a moment, he neglected to remember that he was meant to be sleeping. Making his way through the bedroom door, Kuroro approached the bed with urgent footsteps. But if Kuroro was there, then who was in bed with Kurapika?

“You,” Kuroro called out, his eyes narrowing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Kurapika followed his accusatory gaze. Kneeling between his legs was a man with a handsome face that could belong to no one other than Kuroro. Without answering, he wiped the saliva from his mouth from sucking Kurapika off. Kurapika stilled for a moment, trying his best to make sense of this impossible situation and failing. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest. Was this all a dream?

Kurapika tried to draw his knees together in an attempt to cover himself, but the hands on his thighs kept them parted. The fact that Kuroro could see him in this state made his face burn from humiliation, when he only allowed Kuroro to take him under the cover of darkness. Kuroro seized his doppelgänger by the collar of his fur coat, dragging him away from Kurapika, his fist raised as if to strike him. It had been months since he had witnessed Kuroro being this furious.

He had never been more exposed and vulnerable in front of anyone, but his shame was quickly replaced by intense confusion. Behind Kuroro was _yet another_ Kuroro in the doorway, only this one carried a bag of flour and sugar in his arms. 

Kurapika held too many questions. But without thinking, he blurted out, “Are you stealing my groceries?” 

The second doppelgänger immediately shook his head. “No, no. Well, I am planning on using them—”

“Kuro hoped to make a cake for you,” Kuroro answered flatly, although that didn’t explain anything. 

The doppelgänger standing behind him with ingredients from Kurapika’s cupboard was presumably named Kuro. While he certainly resembled Kuroro—his earrings and cross tattoo were unmistakable—his features were more soft and youthful, as if he were around Kurapika’s age. His black hair fell softly around his face, slightly shorter than what Kurapika remembered of him. He was wearing neither a clean-cut black suit nor the fur coat that Kurapika resented so much, but rather much more banal clothing.

“A cake,” Kurapika repeated in confusion. “Why?”

It was Kuro’s turn to be confused. “It’s Valentine’s Day today. Isn’t it normal to give you cake and flowers?” His dark eyes suddenly brightened in realization. “Or do you prefer chocolate?”

Kurapika was dumbfounded. A cake at three in the morning? 

More importantly, why was he seeing three of Kuroro?

“That is,” Kuroro began to say, quiet enough for only Kurapika to hear. He coughed lightly in some semblance of embarrassment. “He’s convinced that you’re my lover.”

While Kurapika struggled to make sense of the situation in silence, Kuro set the ingredients aside and crossed over the room to accompany him on the bed. The mattress sunk as he kneeled beside him. “You’ll get cold,” Kuro said as he moved Kurapika to an upright sitting position, pulling the comforter over him and swathing him in a protective cocoon to protect his modesty. “Was Danchou bothering you?”

Danchou snorted in response, earning glares from both Kuro and Kuroro. Now that Kurapika could consider him properly in the light, this version of Kuroro was the only one wearing a fur coat. He should have realized that there was something different about the Kuroro pleasuring him earlier, when the traces of fur whispered against his skin. Kuroro had abandoned this ensemble months ago on the Black Whale. His hair was slicked back in his old hairstyle, although his hair was slightly messy and losing its styled hold. But rather than Danchou bothering him, it was actually those two who interrupted Kurapika when he was about to come, no matter how dubious the situation was.

“...I’m fine,” Kurapika answered when he found his bearings. He was more bewildered than upset. He focused on who he assumed to be the original Kuroro, still finding it uncomfortable to speak to him face-to-face after avoiding doing so for so long. “Explain yourself.”

“It’s a new Nen ability,” Kuroro clarified, although Kurapika already discerned this. He released Danchou from his grasp, casting him aside on the bed. “I’m able to create replicas of individuals, although I’m still exploring the extent of this ability. Unfortunately, the copies have their own autonomy.”

Despite that Kurapika was intrigued by how their appearances and personalities were distinguishable from the original Kuroro, being in the presence of three of them was incredibly unnerving. It was even more questionable that Kuroro chose to experiment with them on Kurapika. He had given Kuroro permission to do as he wished months ago, but he never expected him to take advantage of their arrangement in this manner. “So you copied yourself.”

“Indeed.” Kuroro nodded towards his two counterparts sitting beside Kurapika. “ _Danchou_ is myself from two years ago. You might remember this appearance of mine from our first encounter in Yorknew.” When Kurapika pressed his lips in displeasure at the name, Kuroro only smiled in mild amusement. Danchou was incredibly fortunate that Kurapika didn’t break his nose after seeing him again. “They named themselves. On the other hand, _Kuro_ is my younger self from Meteor City. They represent versions of me from different points in time, but to put it simply, they’re fakes.”

“We’re not fakes,” Kuro countered, looking deeply offended.

“How can we be so sure you’re not the imposter?” A disdainful sneer crossed Danchou’s features. “The real Kuroro Lucifer should take the chain user first.”

Kuroro’s expression darkened with an underlying warning. His counterpart spoke as if Kurapika was something they could claim. His Skill Hunter book manifested in his hands, its pages turning without any wind. “I could erase you here and now.”

In a perfect echo, Danchou mirrored his movements. He stood up, a replica of the Skill Hunter book appearing in his hands as if he were ready to engage Kuroro in a fight. 

While it was curious how Kuroro’s doppelgängers retained his original abilities, Kurapika’s interest was waning. He could gather why Kuroro decided to use this ability in the bedroom, but it didn’t seem that Kuroro could control them very well. Amidst their ongoing argument, Kurapika remained on the bed, unimpressed and blue-balled. 

“It doesn’t matter to me who’s first as long as you _do_ something already,” Kurapika finally said. Kuroro seemed curious that he had accepted the situation, but that was because his length was aching for attention. He could probably get himself off without Kuroro here. “Either you can start something or you can all get out.”

Kuro grasped at his hand worriedly, his fingers intertwining. The heat of Kuroro’s skin was familiar to Kurapika, but this was the first time he had ever held hands. “Please don’t kick us out.” 

“Then, why don’t you choose one of us?” Danchou suggested, moving closer to him. Ignoring Kuroro’s warnings to not touch him, he leaned down towards Kurapika, taking his chin in one hand, his thumb brushing against his lower lip. He gently tilted Kurapika’s face to the side so that he could murmur in his ear, his voice low and provocative. “Or do you want all of us at once?”

Kurapika shuddered, perplexed to find that he was even more aroused. Without the darkness obscuring their presence, Kurapika should have refused them and forced them to leave his bedroom, but he discovered that he wasn’t entirely against the idea. One Kuroro was more than enough, but the weight of three gazes on him, so honest with reverence and desire, made him more vulnerable to the idea of being filled and taken by all of them. 

Danchou gave an amused smile at his reaction. Beneath his fur coat, his toned chest and abdomen were displayed in a full, unabashed view for him. Kurapika couldn’t resist staring.

“My eyes are up here,” Danchou teased, making Kurapika’s face flush with embarrassment. How absurd, that all it took for Kurapika’s reservations to break down was seeing his former enemy’s chest. The way he regarded Kurapika radiated a boldness that he should have despised, but Kurapika found himself inexplicably drawn to him. 

“You,” Kurapika eventually decided, his throat feeling terribly dry. “I want you first.” Danchou’s eyes gleamed triumphantly, as if he succeeded in stealing something. But Kurapika's heart twinged with slight remorse when Kuro’s face fell, reminding him of a puppy abandoned by his owner. It wasn’t that he disliked Kuroro’s younger counterpart; rather, he was becoming quite fond of him. He simply wanted to finish what was started, especially since Danchou was the first to use his mouth on him. “Ah, what should I call you?”

“How about _Danchou_?”

“I’d rather not,” Kurapika replied dully.

“I’ll make you call me that,” Danchou promised him with an assured smile. Releasing his face, he captured Kurapika’s slender wrists in his hands and forced him to lay back on the bed. Kurapika’s breath was knocked out of his lungs, and suddenly Danchou was leaning over him, his knees resting on both sides of his hips.

“You need to treat Kurapika more preciously,” Kuro admonished Danchou’s rough treatment. “There may be three of us, but there’s only one of him.”

“Yes, yes,” Danchou answered with a smugness that made Kurapika vaguely suspicious. Even Kuroro observed them with a frown. “I’ll make sure to take care of him properly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kuroro - Post-canon Kuroro  
> Danchou - Yorknew arc Kuroro  
> Kuro - Younger, pre-canon Kuroro
> 
> A younger Kuroro around Kurapika’s age would be a total cutie. If you've read [Skeleton Flower](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14554914/chapters/33630816), then you might already be familiar with him.
> 
> This was supposed to be a serious fic, but instead it almost became a comedy since Kurapika's situation is rather amusing. Kuroro is literally getting cucked by himself. I'm sorry for blue-balling you guys just like Kurapika, but the next chapter should be sexier. +:)
> 
> I’ll update with the next chapter soon. I’m still on hiatus so it will take a while before I can update the rest of my fics, but I hope you enjoy this fic too. Please leave a comment!
> 
> You can also reach out to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ryuuseigai) or [Tumblr](http://seiyuna.tumblr.com/).


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